


A Clinical Approach to Real Magic

by BoneJanggles



Category: The 100 (TV), The Thinking Woman's Guide to Real Magic - Emily Croy Barker
Genre: F/M, Love Magic, only in the beginning but definitely there, really gross love magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-04 15:28:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5339168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoneJanggles/pseuds/BoneJanggles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke wanders away from a boring party and finds herself in another reality, one where she is the protagonist of a fairytale gone horribly wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In retrospect, it seemed fitting that Wells would call her on the last normal day of her life.

Clarke already knew why he was calling, and she didn't want to talk to him. She had agreed to go to his father's reelection campaign party months ago and it was almost insulting that he thought her mother hadn't also left a message reminding her of the same thing. Clarke contemplated simply hanging up without answering but something spiteful in her made her put it on speaker instead while she pulled a basket of strawberries out of the fridge for her breakfast.

'Clarke! Hey, I didn't expect you to actually pick up. Um, okay. I know your mom probably already reminded you about the party but I thought I'd call too just in case-'

She wasn't entirely sure why she had accepted the call, maybe she wanted to hear whatever mental back-flips he had put himself through to make this seem like a good idea. Maybe she just wanted a reason to be angry. She tuned him out as she started chopping the fruit.

“-So I'll be leaving tonight, I was hoping you could remind my dad for me? You know how he worries.”

“What?” Clarke only caught the tail end of the question. Tonight was the stupid dinner party they were supposed to meet up at. He couldn't just abandon her at the last minute!  
Not that she wanted to see him, she reminded herself. She was still mad at him. Of course.

“-I'm leaving early for my study abroad program, there's a bonus course that opened a week before the main session and I'm signed up to go. I was hoping you could remind my dad about it, I emailed him at the time but he might have forgotten in all the commotion tonight.”

She hadn't known he was studying abroad at all, where was he going? How long would he be gone?

No.

She didn't care.

This had been a mistake. She answered with a quick “yeah whatever” and hung up the phone. Clarke glared at her phone until the screen went dark. He had been the one who convinced her to go, what was he doing leaving her to fend for herself against their parents' awful friends?

Breathing out a quick huff of frustration, Clarke realized the strawberry juice had started to spill off the cutting board and spread across the counter. She blamed Wells for that too.  
After a haphazard cleanup she headed out for campus that morning, annoyed at both Wells for calling in the first place and herself for indulging him. She wanted to be angry with him, but she missed him terribly sometimes and hearing his voice had only reminded her of that.

On the way to her first class, Clarke automatically kept an eye out for her mother who often came in to give talks and guest lectures to the pre-med students. She figured avoidance was almost always the best policy, but when she heard her adviser calling her name from a table just inside the campus cafe she thought maybe there was a limit to the number of people avoidance was truly effective against.

Swallowing her sudden nerves she turned to face the intimidatingly beautiful woman who was so truly unfortunate to be in charge of her academic progress.

“Anya, hi. I didn't see you there.” Clarke started slowly. The woman in question stood up from the tiny round table and indicated subtly but with a violent severity that Clarke should join her. Clarke took a deep breath and tried to put on a neutral face, as if she had no idea why her adviser wanted to speak with her so strongly.

“Clarke,” Anya greeted her as she sat back down, “you know why I've called you over.”

Touche.

Anya continued. “I see that you signed up for all art classes this semester. This should have been your last semester, you will not be able to graduate on time if you go through with this. I can get you the add/drop paperwork but I'm certain the classes you need will be full by now. What were you thinking?”

If nothing else, Clarke was grateful for her bluntness, “I thought I might squeeze in an art minor while I still can.” Clarke had decided this a month ago lying in bed trying not to think about her Father's death. She'd remembered how he had always loved her drawings and how he had always been asking if she still had time to work on her art in between all her fancy medical classes. It wasn't that she didn't want to be a doctor anymore, but she couldn't stand the thought of skipping over the opportunity to work on her art like he'd always wanted in order to pursue what her mother had always encouraged. It felt like an intentional betrayal and she couldn't stand that, not then and not now. Finally revitalized into action, she had immediately logged on to her school website, dropped all the classes she needed for pre-med, and snatched up every available art class. It wasn't until later that she remembered she had to put together a research proposal to complete her capstone class from the previous semester.

Anya stared at her flatly as though she couldn't believe that anyone would make such a stupid decision. Her signature smokey eye makeup intensifying the expression. Clarke wondered absently why she wore such heavy makeup simply to work in an office all day? 'But then,' she thought, 'if I could do my eyeshadow like that I would wear it every day too.'

Seemingly deciding that Clarke wasn't getting the message from facial expressions alone, Anya spoke again, “It can take up to two years to complete a minor, even in the arts. I hope this decision was not made lightly.”

Clarke twisted the hem of her shirt between her fingers and said nothing. Her eyes slid to the right where she caught sight of a group freshmen girls happily greeting each other after a summer apart. They were jumping and hugging and probably shrieking though she couldn't hear it over the ambient coffeehouse sounds. She was reminded strongly of when she and Wells were in high school together, they would always have a movie marathon the first day back from break. She missed him more now that she knew she wasn't going to see him. He always knew how to placate her terrifying adviser, all those informal lessons in etiquette and diplomacy from his father served him far better than they had her. When her father died and Wells took her mother's side of the ensuing fight Clarke cut off communication with him wherever possible, and now she was paying the price. She couldn't seem to do anything right anymore.

Clarke tuned back in when she heard her adviser calling her name. Anya looked especially fed up with her at this point, but she only sighed and squared her shoulders. “Have you at least come up with a research proposal for your capstone?” She asked. Her tone of voice suggesting she was anticipating her disapproval of Clarke's answer.

Clarke shook her head, not bothering to speak. She had no idea where to even start. Perhaps she could look into some kind of art therapy, if only to make her current class choices slightly more appropriate.

Anya slipped the miscellaneous papers from the table into her slim leather laptop bag and stood up. Clarke stood with her and allowed herself to be guided outside. Anya spoke without looking at her as they exited the cafe. “You are a very smart student, Clarke.” The compliment was a reprimand coming from her. “I was happy to work with you at first, you always received high marks in your classes and you had excellent connections thanks to your mother. You could have been a great surgeon but there's more to it than just good grades, and you aren't putting the effort in anymore.” They stopped outside the library, Anya finally turned to look at her. “I spoke with the professor of your capstone II class and he agreed to let you in. You'll still have to submit an add form and you'll have to have your research proposal ready by November for him to review. I'll send you the add/drop forms later today.” And with that, she was gone.

Clarke stood outside the building for a couple minutes more, taking in everything her adviser had thrown at her. She would be hearing a lot more of that at the gala, she was sure. When she had collected her thoughts adequately, Clarke turned to open the door and crashed straight into Ranger Nyko.

As far as she knew he wasn't actually an ranger of any kind, but everyone on campus knew him by the moniker. Rumors about him ranged from him being an extremely lost backpacker who wandered onto campus and never left, to a grad student who went crazy when he couldn't finish his thesis. He was always hunting down books in the library and muttering to himself, no one knew what he was looking for or studying and in equal measure, no one wanted to ask. Ranger Nyko was not a small man, appearing to be even larger due to his dread-locked hair and barely maintained beard. He looked every part the wild man so many students accused him of being; the few times he wasn't in the library he could be found wandering the forest surrounding the campus searching for something there as well. Clarke assumed this was where his nickname came from.

Ranger Nyko stumbled with Clarke after their collision, Clarke reached out and grabbed his arm to try and steady the both of them. He looked somehow more shocked at that than the initial crash. “I'm so sorry,” she began, “I don't know how I didn't see you coming out.”

The taller man jerked his arm away and looked her up and down, “It's you.”

Clarke was at a momentary loss as to how he knew her, “Yeah, it's me. Are you alright?” She said, reasoning that he had probably been here long enough to have met her mother at some point. That was how most people she had never met knew her.

“Yes, thank you. It was my fault, I should have been more careful. You'll want the usual reward, then.” He stated, taking a step back.

Clarke had no idea what he was talking about. The more far-fetched rumors were seeming less far-fetched now that she had actually talked to him. “No, I'm just glad you're okay.” What on earth did he mean by reward?

Ranger Nyko looked at her intently for a couple seconds, then shook his head adamantly. “No, this is how it's done. Three should be more than enough.” He straightened his shoulders, nodded firmly at her, and then walked away.

Clarke watched his retreating form until he was lost among the crowd of students exiting a building nearby. She turned and walked into the library and thought about how strange this day had turned out to be. A phone call she shouldn't have answered, then a premature what-the-hell-are-you-doing-with-your-life talk, and then whatever this encounter was? She decided to chalk it all up to bad karma and continued into the building to her classroom. She was a little late but no one seemed to notice as she set her bag down and took a seat towards the back of the auditorium, the mild droning sound of the professor's lecture on thoracolumbar spinal compression quickly easing away the morning weirdness.

As she drove back from school that afternoon however, the strange events of the day flooded back into the forefront of Clarke's mind. She supposed she should be thankful that Anya had questioned her choices first, now she could think of acceptable responses to what she knew would be less blunt but more judgmental inquiries at the gala tonight. If she had still been on speaking terms with Wells this was when she would have called him to ask for advice. Clarke was sure if she found him early on in the evening he would be happy to give her pointers on how to circumvent even the most disapproving family friend. Except he wouldn't be there tonight. Or any night for the foreseeable future. She should be happy about that, but somehow choosing to ignore him and being physically unable to see him garnered entirely different emotional responses. Clarke gave up trying to dissect her feelings as she climbed the stairs to her tiny apartment.  
“I wish I could see him again before he goes.” she murmured to herself as she unlocked her door.


	2. Chapter 2

Clarke arrived late to the gala, partly because she really didn't want to go but mostly because she had gotten turned around trying to find the damn thing. She didn't know why Thelonius had decided to host his party on some backwoods estate on the outskirts of Walden instead of in his mansion in Arcadia. Maybe his massive ego no longer fit in his house, she mused, as she searched out either the buffet table or the open bar she knew would be somewhere near the back. Thelonius liked to make people work for their alcohol, make them slog through chatting up everyone who happened to recognize them before they could even have a drink. 'What a dick.' Clarke thought bitterly as she faked a smile and accepted a clammy handshake from an older man she didn't recognize. She nodded sympathetically with his opening statement about the terrible weather. The weather was fine, who was this man? Was he a senator? Someone from the Board of Directors at the hospital? Clarke had no idea, but she was sure Wells would have known.

Clarke fantasized about all the different types of drinks she might order as the old man blathered on about his various ailments. She had just gotten to the whiskey mixes when a familiar voice sounded from just behind her.

“Senator Roths, I'm glad to see that despite your apparently innumerable health problems you were feeling spritely enough to make it here.” Clarke turned to see Thelonius Jaha smiling placidly at the obnoxious old man. Thelonius's warm voice continued, “Though if I may suggest, perhaps you aught to talk to a medical professional, not a student, about your gout and lower back problems.”

Clarke quickly chose the lesser of two evils and jumped at the chance to excuse herself from Senator Roths' increasingly sweaty presence.

“It's good to see you again Clarke, I wasn't sure if you would come tonight.” Thelonius exclaimed. Barely sparing him a glance, Clarke resumed her search for the nearest alcohol source.

Thelonius paused, his excitement dimming. “Have you talked to Wells yet?”

The question gave her pause, “He's not here, he emailed you weeks ago.”

Thelonius smiled again, “No, he's right over there!” gesturing to their left. Sure enough, there was the young man in question. Clarke stopped in her tracks, so he'd lied then? That didn't seem like him, plus he was a terrible liar. She would have picked up on it easily if he'd tried tell her he wasn't attending just to make her more likely to show up.

'And he would have been wrong on that account too,' A voice trickled through her mind. 'You almost didn't come.' She frowned.

“Why don't you two catch up?” Thelonius suggested mildly, interrupting her thoughts.

Clarke stared at Wells for a little longer, he had a drink in his hand that she was sure was nonalcoholic. He was laughing with a group of people that looked like the only thing they had in common was that they were all thoroughly charmed by him. He looked happy.

Wells turned and met her stare, just then, as if he'd felt her eyes. He smiled widely and unabashedly, and her heart swelled as her mind fumed. She walked towards him in a fog of emotions. Wells greeted her enthusiastically and reached for her hands as she got closer. Clarke stopped just out of reach.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

His mega-watt smile dimmed to something more earnest, “I came here for you!”

Clarke took a step back at that and frowned. The people who had been talking to Wells began quietly dispersing, sensing a fight in the making. Wells looked around in surprise, and then focused back on Clarke, “I wanted to see you, when we spoke on the phone this morning I realized how much I was going to miss you when I was away.”

What happened that morning was not something Clarke would call 'talking' in any sense of the word. She shook her head, “I shouldn't have answered the phone then, and you should have left today. Or I shouldn't have come here, this has all been a huge mistake.”

Wells looked somewhere between stricken and hopeful. He reached for her again and again she stepped back, crossing her arms in front of her body as much to ward him away as to hold her anger in.

“No Clarke, I just,” Wells floundered for a minute before remembering himself. He stopped and gathered his thoughts before continuing in a more coherent manner, “I had hoped that when you answered the phone this morning it meant you were ready to talk to me again, but I guess I jumped to conclusions there. I understand if you still hate me.”

Clarke clenched her jaws and looked away, Wells stood in front of her and miserably fiddled with the cuffs of his coat. Clarke dropped her hands and huffed out an angry breath. “I don't hate you Wells. I'm just, I'm still angry and I can't talk to you yet.”

Wells looked up at her, surprise clear on his face. He grinned with the same manic energy as before. 'He has smiled more in the past minute than I have in months.' Clarke thought accusingly, then more soberly, 'Have I really been so miserable?' Her meandering mind was shaken from it's musings by Wells' excited jabbering.

“I'll send you a postcard when I get to San Cristobal!”

Where the hell was San Cristobal? It sounded Latin American, but it could easily have been somewhere in Spain she supposed. Wells was talking about what he was going to study, said something about missing the welcoming lecture, Clarke didn't care. She looked around once again in search of the bar. The worst of it was over now that she'd talked to him, but that didn't mean the rest of this party was going to be any better.

Wells trailed off mid-sentence when he saw Clarke wasn't even pretending to listen. Clarke looked back at him, eyebrows shifting to a jaunty, unimpressed angle.

“Maybe we can meet for coffee when I get back in December? You can cancel if you're not feeling it by then but, maybe we can work things out?” He asked somewhat meekly. Clarke hummed a noise that could be taken to mean anything. Wells smiled and looked around, appearing to recognize someone he looked back at Clarke, “It was really good to see you, even under these circumstances. I'll run interference with your mom, try to have some fun while you're here? For me.”

And with that he was gone.

~

The party was a massive affair, spilling out of a multi-story pine log and river rock cabin across an expansive native flower garden. The large islands of trees and shrubs were separated by gravel paths. The plants were spindly and leafless from winter, though the host or party planners had hung lanterns and wrapped lights around the branches to give the illusion of life. Inside the islands were secluded benches and gazebos where people were gathering in small groups. It was easy for Clarke to wander in and out of them, halfway joining the conversations before walking away to find another. She recognized very few people, only her mother's coworkers really, and those she did know only wanted to talk about how her studies were going. A number of them already knew about her art minor decision and expressed their approval, though Clarke could hear the confusion in their voices. Clarke only smiled and changed the topic, wondering sardonically how they chose their outfits this evening or how they could possibly be qualified enough to criticize the decor if beauty and design weren't important skills to cultivate.

'They all want to art to exist in the world but no one wants there to be artists.' Clarke thought to herself as she skirted around yet another group of her mother's friends. She was tired of their questions and she wasn't socially adept enough to join conversations with complete strangers. Never having found the bar, she had been picking up glasses from the trays of servers going around. She lost count of how many she had tossed back, but she was holding red wine now and the world was going a little soft around the edges. Cursing her old party girl lifestyle, she knew she wouldn't get enough alcohol to ever be truly drunk tonight unless she started following the waiters around. She wasn't that desperate, she would have to settle for tipsy and hope for the best.

The miscellaneous alcohols begin to kick in more as she wandered into the main property, following cheerful sounds to a room on the second floor about half full of people her age and younger playing some complex fantasy video game on a television the size of a ping pong table. There was a small crowd of people around the couch where two boys were sat, their fingers flying across the controllers to cast spells of earthquakes and fire storms at each other's characters. The crowd was shouting insults and encouragement. Clarke thought about joining them and moved towards the couch but was jostled out of the way after one boy won the match and the crowd cheered. She decided to take it as a sign and moved towards the large window at the back of the room. As she stared out at the expansive party area below she tried to pick out individual faces from the groups of party-goers but couldn't remember anyone specific and doubted she could pick any of them out of a line-up. She gripped her drink tighter and wondered why she had even come.

'Mr. Jaha just throws these to remind everyone he's still relevant.' She thought lazily as she leaned forward and exhaled onto the window pane, drawing a simplified deer in the condensation. If she crossed her eyes a little bit it looked like a massive creature wandering through the party, potentially crushing everyone in it's path. Clarke smiled at the thought, and then noticed a familiar face in one of the clear paths left by her fingertip. It was her mother, highlighted perfectly in one of the deer's legs.

Their eyes met. Her mother stepped forward almost unconsciously and before Clarke's idling mind could drum up any real emotion, Wells stepped into the line sight. He lightly touched her mother's wrist and said something to her to make her step back and turn towards him. As they walked back into one of the groves of trees, Clarke saw her mother turn back to look up at her again, she angrily swiped at the opaque glass, smearing the deer away and leaving a large streak on the window.

She'd had enough.

Clarke quickly walked out of the cabin. She had a high enough tolerance for alcohol to figure she would probably be fine if she drove to the hotel she and the other guests were supposed to be staying at for the night, but after what happened to her father there was no way she was even attempting it. She knew if she could track down Wells he would be ecstatic to give her a ride, though she was loath to rely on him. She was absolutely not going to ask her mother for anything.

By this time she had made her way to the gated entrance. Her car was parked a ways down the street, maybe she could mill around in the cool evening air until she fully sobered up.

She was just wondering if calling an Uber driver would even work so far out in the boonies of Walden when another group of people suddenly burst out of the gate, a number of them clearly drunk. They took notice of her when she stumbled a bit trying to get out of their way. A woman reached out to steady her and she felt a stab of embarrassment. She briefly considered explaining that she wasn't drunk, she really wasn't, but the woman was laughing and pulling away already.

“Hey do you need a ride to the hotel?” a man in his late twenties stepped toward her, probably the group's designated driver. Clarke looked at the group of 5 or 6 other people leaning on each other while loudly trying to remember what direction their car was in.

“Do you have room for another?” She asked hopefully. The man smiled and looked back at his friends, “My wife had triplets a couple years ago so I brought everyone here in my minivan. Don't worry, we left the carseats at home!” The man laughed, halfway lost in memories. Clarke smiled as he continued, “It might smell like play dough but there's certainly enough room for everyone.”

This was exactly what she needed, “That sounds great, thanks!”

As soon as they were in the car Clarke regretted her initial excitement. It was a tight squeeze with two other people in the very back seats. Two very loud, very drunk people at that. Clarke cringed away from yet another of their inside jokes shouted across the car and stared out the heavily tinted window. All she could see of the forest was an alternating pattern of dark and slightly less dark patches.  
The woman next to her gesticulated wildly in the middle of telling a story and whacked Clarke in the ribs with her elbow, the whole group quieted for a minute as she apologized awkwardly. Clarke forced an understanding smile and tried to gesture for them to continue but the mood had been spoiled.

It was an objectively short drive to the hotel, but the last leg felt like it took years off Clarke's life. The whole group was more subdued now that they were so aware of her presence among them, Clarke felt like her skin was trying to crawl off her body every time one of them looked at her. Clambering out of the Minivan of Shame as soon as it pulled into a spot, she thanked the driver profusely and hurried to the front office to check in. There was a loud burst of laughter just as she reached the large double doors, a mantra of 'they weren't laughing at me. And if they were who cares. They weren't laughing at me.' pounded through her brain as she walked to the desk and was handed her key card, room 319.

Her travel bag had been sent to the room ahead of time and she fished out her pajamas as she looked around the room. It was, in her opinion, unnecessarily but not unexpectedly lavish. Plucking out the familiar articles of clothing and a toiletry bag, she brought them to the bathroom for a quick shower before bed. Clarke undressed and looked at herself in the mirror for the first time since getting ready that morning, her hair had frizzed quite a bit and her lipstick was worn in the center of her bottom lip from the many different cups she had drunk from. She was sure some people could make this look work but she was definitely not one of them. Clarke dragged a makeup remover towelette across her eyes and decided firmly that she was not going to follow that train of thought.

Stepping out of the steaming bathroom, Clarke realized there was still a veritable mountain of decorative throw pillows she would have to get through in order to get into the bed. She began tossing the pillows onto the floor, the solid 'fwump' of each gave her some satisfaction. Once she was able to reach the edge of the sheets beneath the real pillows she pulled them back and slid in, immediately cocooned in a warmth she prayed would make quick work of falling asleep.

And yet, once again her traitorous mind called back memories of the day, the minivan incident, the game room, Wells, Anya. She felt that familiar cocktail of regret and embarrassment for everything said and left unsaid. She wondered why she even bothered opening her mouth anymore if all she was going to do was put her foot into it. Closing her eyes tightly she though sluggishly 'what the hell am I doing here, I don't belong here. I don't belong anywhere and everyone knows that.' Clarke groaned tiredly and turned roughly onto her side, curling around herself, “I wish my life was different,” she murmured to herself, “I don't care how. I don't want this anymore.”


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke awoke at her normal time of 7:30 the next morning. Had she been back home in Arcadia this would have given her just enough time to get dressed and have some breakfast before heading to class. As it was, she was now wide awake a good 6 hours before she was due back at the cabin for brunch. Knowing sleep was now, ironically, only a dream, she decided to see if there were was any information available about attractions in the area that might be open at this hour. She didn't bother to change out of her pajamas, if anyone objected to her sweatpants and tank top look this early in the morning they could fuck right off as far as she was concerned.

Wandering out into the opulent lobby area, she found the display of pamphlets that she was looking for near the front desk. Most of them seemed to be based around bird watching and golfing, neither of which she was particularly interested in, but one of them did manage to catch her eye. Lifting up the brown and green folded map titled 'Mount Weather Regional Park' she opened up the brochure. It boasted miles of hiking trails in and around the mountain and as far as she could tell it was pretty close to the hotel. There were signs posted nearby that explained the hotel offered shuttles to and from all of the attractions, and seeing as her car was still at the cabin she would have to take advantage of that. Clarke headed towards the sleepy looking woman behind the desk. The woman perked up immediately as Clarke approached, “Hello! How can I help you?” She asked as soon as Clarke was within reasonable distance.

“Are the shuttles running this early in the morning?” Clarke asked, significantly less chipper.

“They sure are! Where would you like to go?” The woman, Glass according to her name tag, picked up a phone and looked at Clarke expectantly.

“Mount Weather Reserve.” Clarke stated, holding up the map.

“Great choice!” Glass smiled then called a driver to come pick Clarke up at the front loading zone. As soon as she put the phone down she turned back to look at Clarke, “I've called for a personal driver that way you're not stuck by yourself on one of those huge buses.”

Clarke thanked her, a minuscule anxiety she hadn't quite acknowledged until then lifted from her chest. One less thing, she thought.

“Do you have a plan on where you want to go?” Glass asked after a beat. Clarke admitted she hadn't taken a close look yet. She opened her map on the counter top.

“I recommend this trail here by the west entrance,” Glass pointed to a small one-way path that ended in a picnic area labeled 'Cave Trail'. “It's a pretty short walk but it's absolutely gorgeous and the cave has a lot of historical importance.” It seemed like she was going to elaborate but then she saw something just over Clarke's shoulder.

“Oh! You're ride is here!” She grinned and hurried around the counter. “If you have anything you want to pick up from your room you should do it now while I tell the driver where to go. It was nice to meet you, oh! My name is Glass, I should have started with that, sorry. What's your name?”

Clarke smiled and offered her hand along with her name, Glass's face turned thoughtful as she accepted the handshake. Thinking nothing of it, Clarke said goodbye and walked back to the elevator room to pack a small bag. All she had was an over the shoulder purse that sort of matched the dress she intended to wear to brunch that day, but after emptying it of all her miscellaneous pens, receipts, make-up bits, and old art show pamphlets she was surprised to find it had a good amount of space available. She packed one of the complementary water bottles, a pad of paper embossed with the hotel logo, and added back a couple of pens figuring she might get a bit of drawing in while she was out. Digging around in her larger travel bag once again, Clarke was very grateful for the spare set of casual clothes she always left at the bottom of the bag. She might be a bit cold but she would certainly be more comfortable going for a hike in jeans and a loose, lace-back shirt than she would be in a dress.

On her way to the shiny black car parked in the loading zone out front, Clarke was interrupted by Glass calling her name. The receptionist was waving a small brown paper wrapped package in the air as she jogged towards Clarke as fast as she could in her standard issue pencil skirt and heeled shoes.

“Your mother left this for you last night!” She exclaimed, grinding to a halt in front of Clarke.

Clarke's eyes narrowed as she looked at the proffered item with a good deal of suspicion. What could her mother possibly want this time? She thanked the excitable woman and tucked the parcel into her bag without looking at it. She would deal with that later. Maybe. If she felt up to it.

The feeling that she was going for a ride in a glorified taxi lessened slightly when the driver opened the passenger seat instead of the back doors. The man gave a quick and only slightly strained smile as he started the engine. Clarke waited for him to offer his name or confirm their destination or do anything besides frown at the glare from the early morning sun. He did not acquiesce.

Shifting slightly in her seat, Clarke pulled out her phone after 15 minutes of this radio silence to see if she could look up any information about the so called historically important cave. She was able to load an ancient website with a few awkwardly spaced pictures of the cave and the trail leading to and from it. According to the article the cave that the trail ran through was more of an entrance to a larger cave system than it was a true cave in and of itself. 'However,' it read 'in 1947 there was a rockslide that blocked off the rest of the system from visitors and explorers.' It went on to explain that this was probably for the best due to unstable geological conditions in the area that lead to the cave-in in the first place.

Clarke began skimming as she searched for anything resembling historical importance, scrolling back in time through the geological activity until she came to a link at the bottom of the page: “Some of the first settlers of both Walden and Arcadia made great use of this cave system, one room in particular, click here to read more!”  
Clarke pressed the pad of her thumb down on the small blue line eagerly, and then felt her spirits drop as the screen went white and the loading bar froze halfway through. Looking up for the first time in a while, she noticed the road was much smaller and there were brown road signs indicating picnic areas and campsites that flashed past her window pretty regularly. They must have entered the Reserve without her noticing, no wonder her phone wouldn't load the next page. She was probably lucky to have even got the first one though somehow that knowledge didn't make her feel any better about not getting the answers she was looking for. Her face twisted in annoyance and she tossed her phone back into her purse with a small huff. The driver breathed out a puff of laughter at her admittedly childish behavior. Clarke threw him an unimpressed look to hide her reddening cheeks.

Exiting the car with equal parts relief and trepidation, Clarke turned to thank her laconic driver when he spoke for the first time.  
“I'll be back to pick you up in three hours, I can take you straight to the cabin or back to the hotel.” His voice rumbled monotonously.  
“The hotel please.” Clarke assumed he was asking a question, though his complete lack of intonation made things a little confusing. He nodded at her answer however, and reached to close the door she was holding open. Clarke stepped forward to shut the door and squeezed in a quick thanks before he was speeding out of the dusty parking lot.

Clarke rolled her eyes and hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. He probably just wanted to get back to the hotel so he could take a nap or something. She could hardly fault him for that. The sun was still low on the horizon as she began walking down the path marked Cave Trail, the pale morning light dappling through the browning leaves. As the trail meandered through the woods, Clarke kept an eye out for anything appealing to sketch, passing up a small pond and a number of meadows as too simple to be worth drawing, though she did take the time to mourn her lack of art supplies besides a couple ballpoint pens.

'This whole area would be great for watercolor exercises.' Clarke thought to herself as she crouched down to look at a small bunch of bluebonnets that had somehow managed to bloom in the early autumn weather. Reaching for pad of paper she had swiped from the hotel, her fingers brushed the edge of the package her mother had left for her at the front desk.

The entire forest stilled, or at least it seemed that way to Clarke. Flowers forgotten, she rocked forward to sit on her knees as she pulled it out of the bag and took a proper look at it for the first time. Turning it over a few times in her hands she recognized the shape as a book, about twice as tall as it was long. The wrapping simply said “For Clarke” on the outside. Clarke dug her nails into the cleanly folded edge and tore sharply down the front to reveal the cover.

It was a medical handbook.

She fully removed the wrapping and opened the front cover. Just inside the first page there was a message written in her mother's wide scrawl.

_Clarke,_

_Even though you're studying art this semester I thought you might be able to use this to keep your clinical terminology fresh in your mind. It' s little outdated by now but this was my old handbook from when I was in school. It was a big help to me when I was first starting to work in the field and I hope you are able to find a use for it._

_I know you don't agree with what I did, but you have to understand that sometimes there are no good choices to be made. Sometimes all we can do is what we think will cause the least damage in the long run. I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I only want you to be safe and happy and I'm afraid that living on your own wont give you that. I'm worried about you._  
_Please come home._

_-Mom_

The thin card-stock cover was bending under Clarke's tightening fingertips. She stared at the note uncomprehendingly, her mother...wanted her to come back? She hadn't even apologized, she had just shoved her perspective at Clarke once again without even trying to understand Clarke's.

Clarke stood up and brushed the dirt off her knees, she thought about leaving the book in the woods but then figured it would be more satisfying to throw it back at her mother. Maybe literally, maybe not, depending on who was in the immediate vicinity. She filed her anger away for later, she had three hours to enjoy the scenery and dammit if she wasn't going to do just that.

Moving forwards along the trail, she could see the cave come into sight between the trees. It was a massive slab of rock a ways away from the tree line, looking a lot more like a doorway than she had expected. There was an informational sign on a small pedestal just outside the entrance that probably explained the historical significance that she kept hearing about, but by this point Clarke was fairly bitter towards the subject and wanted to see if she could find out on her own. She was hoping for pictographs or carvings, 'but I would accept something like food storage as well' she reasoned with the cold September air.

She walked past the sign without reading it and waited just inside the entrance to allow her eyes to adjust. Realizing she could see quite well, she assumed there must be light coming in from the other side. Her suspicions were confirmed when the tunnel of the cave turned sharply to the left and she could see the picnic area just beyond that signaled the end of the trail. Spinning around the antechamber, Clarke looked for signs of animals or humans along the walls and ceiling but found nothing. Coming back to the bend of the turn, she noticed the thin morning sunlight was illuminating a rock strangely, as she walked towards it she realized what she had thought was a shadow was actually a hole. A rock was missing from the wall of the cave as though some herculean figure had come in and simply removed one of the boulders.

Clarke turned on her phone's flashlight and shone it down the hole, of the 2 feet she could now see it looked like a hallway. The stone walls were smooth and the same gravel path she had been walking on until then continued down the mystery tunnel. This looked far more like a man-made pathway than the first cave. The walls had been carved into a clean, downward sloping tunnel, Clarke figured this had to be the way to whatever the settlers had used the cave for.

Walking down the smaller corridor, Clarke ran her hand along the smooth wall and took a deep breath. The air was surprisingly fresh smelling, like water and moss. The path turned gently a few times then began to slope upwards. Recalling old nutrition and history classes Clarke was pretty sure it would lead to a primitive grain silo or cheese aging room, but when she rounded one last corner and came to an arched iron gate she realized she had been very wrong in all of her predictions.

It was a graveyard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If google is to be believed the only thing on Mt Weather is an emergency operations center, (which i think is a little ominous) i.e. no parks of any kind. That being said, there's a lot of, lets call it creative license in regards to topography and geography in this chapter.


	4. Chapter 4

A jagged fissure between the massive stones making up the cave ceiling let sunlight stream down into an enormous enclosed space, nearly a football field in size. There was soft green grass and a couple trees growing out black earth that sloped down from the base of the gate, with rounded headstones forming a neat grid across the entire room. Clarke peered through the thick iron bars and could just barely see the dates on the closest grave marker, 1834-1887. Fairly recent, there had been people in Walden for more than 2 centuries before that.

Clarke stepped back and looked more closely at the gate, the lock mechanism had long since rusted away and with one loud, horrendous screech Clarke pushed the gate open and stepped into the hushed space. She could see why the settlers would have marked this place for eternal rest, the sunlight coming in through the ceiling caught dust motes and the leaves of the thin trees interspersed between the grave markers cast a greenish gold glow throughout the room. Even without knowing it was hallowed ground Clarke would have pegged it as holy. She wandered through the headstones, reading the names and simple inscriptions. The protected nature of the cave meant that most of the stones, while overgrown with moss and weeds, were still decently legible some 200 years after being carved.

The headstones were placed in chronological order, going back in time towards a large tree in the back with a single marker cozied between the roots. It was not as in-line as the others had been and there was a low stone bench near the tree trunk. Crouching down beside it Clarke noted that there was a more elaborate message on this one, but crawling weeds and lichen had long since claimed it, causing cracks and missing chunks to obscure the inscription.

Clarke leaned closer to run her fingers across the stone face and scrape some of the plants off with her fingernails. Reading out loud, she was able to make out most of the words and figure out the rest from the context.

_Read this, take heed, and gain from my sad fate._   
_For you the way is open. I must wait,_   
_Condemned for centuries long to guard this gate._   
_Make haste, pass through, the hour is growing late._

Clarke frowned, all the other headstones had talked about the dead passively being at rest, whereas this one seemed eerily active and far more present than a centuries old grave should be. Clarke looked up at the name, Thalia Clement, died September 3, 1651, age 18.

'That's today's date,' Clarke thought as she ran her thumb across the lichen dotted engraving, 'today over 300 years ago.' The coincidence was more sad than spooky. Still kneeling near the stone, Clarke spoke softly to the grave. “I'm sorry your life was so short Thalia.” There were innumerable ways a young girl could have died back then, though Clarke would have bet on infection. “I hope one day you find whatever you're waiting for. I wish-” Clarke stopped. What could she wish for someone who had died long ago? “I wish you didn't have to wait here guarding the gate. I wish you could move on to whatever comes next. And maybe even be happy.”

Placing her hand on the top of the stone, Clarke rose to her feet and looked around the graveyard again. The golden glow of sunlight seemed hazier now, more tangible than before. Clarke checked her watch and realized two hours had passed since she had been dropped off, she should head back to make back to the trail head on time. She said goodbye to Thalia and began the trek back to the gate. She had surprised herself by talking to the grave. After her father died she had tried speaking to his headstone but she had given that up quickly. The one-sidedness of the conversation had only made her grief heavier and his silent response still rang in her ears.

When she reached the gate Clarke closed it as best she could, the rusted hinges shrieking exactly as loud as before. She walked back through the tunnel and into the cave, the back down the wooded path, remembering to stop and sketch the flower patch this time. As she neared the end of the hike she checked her phone for the time and to see if anyone had tried to contact her. No messages, and she still had half an hour before she was supposed to meet her stoic driver. Looking up from her phone Clarke almost fell flat on her face she stopped so quickly. Instead of the trail ending at the pull-out alongside the road, ahead of her was a sprawling lawn. The fine gravel trail she had been walking on continuing down the length of it.

There was no way she could have taken a wrong path, she thought to herself as she cautiously made her way down the new road. There was one way in and out of the cave, she hadn't gone to the picnic area and she had recognized everything she passed on the way back. Walking forwards she came to a long reflecting pool. A dark stone statue of an embracing couple stood in the middle, the man holding the woman to him while she pushed him away with a pout. Leaning in slightly, Clarke saw the man's carved fingers were digging deeply into the stone woman's skin, giving an unpleasant effect of desperate possessiveness.

Bright, warm sunlight sparkled off of the water as Clarke made her way around the pool and into a garden of fantastical topiary hedges, every plant here was in full bloom despite the season and Clarke recalled the cold party she had left the day before.  
'This is a garden to have a party in.' she thought, running a hand down a shrub unicorn's nose. Returning to the path, she continued through the garden, coming to a wooden gate that opened to an aspen grove and then to an opening in a low stone wall that lead to an aquatic biome with papyrus plants and water lilies and a perfect semicircle bridge over a pond. Clarke stopped at the crest of the bridge and looked down into the water at the long, slowly undulating bodies of coy fish. It was very pretty, but a little creepy as well. Though the water was crystal clear she got the feeling it was much deeper than it appeared. She had no way of telling how big the fish were.

She thought distantly that she should still be worried about where exactly she was, how she got to this eden and how she could return home, but something about the perfume of the flowers and the warm sun put her immediately at ease and she found she didn't much care how she had gotten there or that she was clearly trespassing on someone's private property. Continuing down the path she walked through a whitewashed wooden fence and came to a fragrant herb garden, then to a long garden striped with a rainbow array of tulips, then through a South Asian style garden with a pointed stone temple carved with monkeys and birds and strange creatures she didn't recognize beneath a massive mango tree, the lower branches heavy with ripe fruit.

Finally after what could have been hours - her watch was alternating between sticking on one number and springing forward - Clarke came to a simple rose garden with a stool and an easel next to it. The easel held a canvas with an unfinished painting of wildflowers and the mountain in the background. There were two wooden lawn chairs behind the stool with a small matching table between them. A pitcher filled with red liquid sat on top of it with two empty glasses stacked beside. Suddenly aware of her parched throat, Clarke didn't hesitate before filling one of the glasses and guzzling down the mysterious beverage. It seemed to be some kind of punch, the taste was hard to describe but very appealing. She poured herself another cup took a slower sip, trying to work out the flavors.

“You must have been thirsty!” a deep voice came from behind her, laughing faintly. Clarke spun around. An old man stood near the gate leading to, presumably, the next garden. He walked towards her and Clarke took in his appearance. He wore a pressed blue shirt with a darker blue blazer over it, a perfectly folded handkerchief peeking from the breast pocket. His white hair was brushed neatly back and a gold watch gleamed just as brightly as his polished black shoes from where it sat around his thin wrist. His face was creased by a few deep wrinkles around his mouth and eyes that bent easily into smiles. Though, thinking in terms of both portrait drawings and anatomy Clarke wouldn't call them smile lines. The man stopped near the freestanding canvas and took her in as well. Clarke realized she had never responded to his comment.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude! I must have gotten lost leaving Mount Weather when I ended up in your garden.” Clarke reluctantly placed the glass back on the table, her fingers lingering on the dewy sides as she thought about how to ask for directions back home. Her brain wasn't quite up to the task of normal conversation for some reason, probably just punch on an empty stomach combined with her own natural awkwardness.

The man waved his hand and laughed again. “It's no bother, we love guests here! And, it may ease your nerves to know, you haven't left Mount Weather. You must have passed through the graveyard to get here, how is it nowadays? Do the stones need maintaining? Is the gate still standing?”

“Yeah, I guess everything was in order.” Clarke answered slowly, why did this man care about an old cemetery? “It was a little overgrown, mostly it was just odd.” He nodded, apparently satisfied.

“Glad to hear it,” the man stepped within reaching distance and held out one hand, “My name is Dante Wallace. Whom do I have the pleasure?”  
Clarke tilted her head a little and shook his hand, “Clarke Griffin, it's nice to meet you.” She couldn't quite place his accent, definitely not American but also not something she'd come in contact with before. Maybe Eastern European of some kind?

Dante smiled wider at her response. “Well, I'm glad you found your way into my gardens, Clarke Griffin. This would have been quite a dull day if you had not.” He gestured to the empty space around them as though it were self-explanatory. Clarke frowned at that, looking to the painting standing to their left. If she had a day to devote entirely to painting she would consider that the most satisfying day of the week. She pointed to the easel and asked if it was his work. Dante looked surprised by the question, then pleased immediately after. “Yes, I was remembering the garden that used to be here. Just something to pass the time, are you interested in painting?” He asked, noting her obvious longing. Now here was something Clarke could talk about for days. She began explaining how she was introduced to art by her father and how she was studying it in school now, Dante gestured to the chairs and they sat down facing each other. He listened intently, apparently fascinated by her boring life. Clarke found herself broaching the subject of her mother and Wells's nagging at her to move back home, Dante waved a hand dismissively. “Now that's ridiculous of them, children have to move away eventually. It's only more painful for everyone to hold them somewhere they don't want to be.” Clarke strongly agreed.

“But you said you're studying art now, were you studying something else before?” Dante asked as Clarke poured herself another drink before stating with certainty, “my major is actually pre-med, I'm only looking into an art minor at this point. Just because I'm fighting with my mom right now doesn't mean I don't still want to be a doctor.” Dante looked ecstatic to hear that Clarke was a medical student, telling her proudly that his daughter was a doctor and an artist of sorts as well. “She designed this garden here in fact!” They both looked around as Clarke sipped her drink, she was sure there was a bit of alcohol in it but she hadn't yet figured out what other ingredients could have been mixed in. Dante was saying something about how he preferred the garden the way it used to be, though the roses were lovely.

“What's in this drink?” Clarke interrupted his musing. Dante looked over at her in confusion and Clarke flushed. She must have had more of the punch than she thought, though the pitcher still looked half full. She made to apologize when Dante laughed and said “Well you'll have to ask my daughter about that, we make it to her specifications.”

“The secret ingredients are hibiscus and moonlight.” Another voice came suddenly from behind Clarke. She whirled around to see a woman in a dark, sensible sundress looking in her direction, the large sunglasses perched on her nose obscuring her expression. She didn't look particularly friendly.

“Lorelei!” Dante greeted the woman warmly, he stood up from the chair and walked around to take her hands. Clarke stood more slowly, placing the glass onto the table. The woman removed her sunglasses and took Dante's proffered hands, pressing her smooth, coffee colored cheek to Dante's pale, wrinkled one and kissing the air. 'Definitely some kind of European.' Clarke thought as she listened to their short conversation.

“Sorry I couldn't make it earlier, a few problems came up in the lab. Lovelace is still there working through everything.” Lorelei spoke calmly and somewhat dispassionately, she reminded Clarke of her mother in a way.

“That's perfectly alright dear,” Dante moved his hand to Lorelei's shoulder, “I know you're very busy, and it isn't as though I was alone!” He turned back to where Clarke was still standing awkwardly behind him. “Clarke this is my daughter Lorelei, the one I told you about earlier.” Pulling the darker skinned woman along behind him, Dante made his way back to the lawn chairs. “Clarke is studying medicine and art in school, you know?” He added with very fake nonchalance as he nudged his daughter towards her. Lorelei turned her head to look at Clarke in a languid manor, strongly reminiscent of a large cat casually listening for prey.

“You want to be a doctor?” Lorelei's softly accented voice was as inscrutable as her expression.

Clarke nodded, “Ever since I was 8 years old.”

Lorelei stared at her a moment longer, then smiled and reached out one of her hands. Clarke let out the breath she had been holding and took Lorelei's hand with relief, feeling as though she had passed some impossible test. The other woman took Clarke's hand with both of hers and squeezed gently then let go, turning to pour herself a glass of punch and top off Clarke's before handing it back to her. “Maybe later you can come down to the clinic and take a look around. A good head like yours and a fresh pair of eyes could be of great help to us.”

“I should really be getting back, I've definitely missed my ride back to the cabin by now.” Clarke frowned, had she missed the brunch too? Her watch was currently reading 2am, she really hoped it wasn't completely broken.

Dante exclaimed at the suggestion of her departure, “You can't leave so soon, you've only just got here!”

Lorelei, looking considerably less distraught, chimed in, “You must stay a bit longer, we're throwing a party tonight. Surely you can stay for that at least!”

Dante nodded emphatically, “That's right, my son throws the best parties. All of our friends will be there, and from what you were telling me you could use the distraction. Please do stay!”

Clarke hesitated. True, she wasn't exactly eager to get back to her mother and Wells, and she didn't have class until Wednesday morning, it was Saturday now so she could easily drive back later. She should probably call Wells's cell though, so no one would panic and send a search team for her. Dante looked confused when she said as much, but Lorelei waved her hand in a dismissive backwards gesture and told her she was free to use their phone. The afternoon sunlight sparkled off a ring on her finger, momentarily blinding Clarke.

“There's no reception out here, you'll have to use the house line.”

Clarke blinked away the sunspots to look in the direction Lorelei had gestured toward, and there it was. Just peeking over the hedges surrounding the rose garden was the asymmetrically angled roof of a small modern house in the distance. Clarke nodded decisively, “Alright, I'll-” She stopped as she caught a glimpse of her filthy boots out the corner of her eye. Good god! In this heat her hair would be a train wreck and she hadn't even put on make up this morning, what kind of mess must she look like to these immaculate people?

“Oh no, I can't go to a party looking like this!” Clarke looked in horror at her plain beige shirt and wrinkled jeans, she was sure the shirt had holes in the lace backing, and the jeans had been sitting in her travel bag for weeks.

Lorelei laughed, a warm throaty sound that immediately relaxed Clarke's sudden nerves. “You can borrow something of mine, I have far more clothes than I'll ever know what to do with.”

Clarke glanced doubtfully at the other woman's slim frame, she supposed it was possible there was something that would fit her in Lorelei's closets. Dante reached over and placed a hand in the middle of her back, guiding her to the gated exit.

“Don't worry about it my dear.” He comforted, “You look lovely as you are now and you'll only look more beautiful tonight.” Dante chatted lightly as they headed towards the gap in the hedges he had originally appeared from. “I can't wait for you to meet my son. I'm sure you'll get along famously!”

Clarke smiled at the grandfatherly man. “If he's anything like you I'm sure I'll like him very much.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess im really doing this again. chapters are going to be longer now. it wont follow the book so closely for much longer.

Clarke ran a hand along the enamel rim of the clawfoot bathtub she was soaking in. The water had been perfectly warm when she first stepped in and somehow hadn’t cooled significantly though she’d been sitting in it for at least thirty minutes.

Probably. Her watch still wasn’t working and her phone wouldn’t turn on anymore. She must’ve forgotten to charge it last night.

She hadn’t meant to take so long and was sure Dante and Lorelei were waiting somewhere in the beautiful little house for her to finish up, but she still couldn’t figure out why they were being so nice to her in the first place. She was just some stranger who wandered into their backyard unannounced and uninvited, she’d complained about her extremely average life to a man who by all accounts should have had her arrested for trespassing but who had instead welcomed her into his home. 

Clarke looked around the tastefully decorated bathroom, eyes focusing on the small array of scented oils and salts on the marble counter. Some kind of lavender and mint concoction had been added to the bath water before she even entered the room. They weren’t the scents she would have chosen for herself but they certainly didn’t smell bad, and whatever it was had tinted the water a pretty purply-blue colour.

While she had been talking to Dante everything had made perfect sense but now it all seemed a little crazy. If the enormous grounds were any indication, these people liked their privacy. Why would they invite a complete stranger to a party after talking to her for less than an hour? 

‘Maybe they had a last minute cancellation and they needed someone to fill the opening.’ Clarke figured as she stood and wrapped herself in a huge fluffy towel. She stepped carefully out of the tub and over the checkerboard tiles to the dressing room Lorelei had set up for her. On the bed were two dresses laid out for her consideration, a bright crimson evening gown with a neckline plunging nearly down to the waist and a short black number with a high pressed collar edged in white. 

Clarke looked down at them thoughtfully, barely deciding on the black over the red when the door burst open and Lorelei strode in. She lifted both dresses and held them to Clarke’s chin, going back and forth a couple times before pursing her lips and stepping back. She looked over Clarke’s form appraisingly, “No, no dresses tonight. Something more casual would be best.” The darker skinned woman folded the dresses over her arm and disappeared out the door, returning quickly with a bright pink sweater and white leggings.

“Yes, this is much better suited to you.” Without looking up Lorelei reached an arm out pulled the towel off of Clarke, dropping it on the floor and beginning to unfold the sweater in the same smooth movement. Clarke gasped and jerked back in an instinctive attempt to cover herself. Lorelei moved to pull the sweater over Clarke’s head as she continued, “Most of the guests won’t be wearing dresses anyway. It’s just a garden party amongst friends after all-”

Clarke grabbed the sweater and snapped, “I can dress myself!”

Lorelei blinked at her for a moment then smiled and held up her hands placatingly. “Of course, of course. When you’ve finished dressing just go next door. My father will do your hair and I will apply your makeup. This party is going to be so much fun, you’ll see.” She laid the leggings on the bed and placed her hand on Clarke’s cheek, swiping her thumb across her cheekbone. Clarke nodded, suddenly embarrassed by her outburst. The other woman gave her cheek a soft pat before turning swiftly and walking out of the room.

The sweater was made of some ultra soft knitted yarn, alpaca maybe? Clarke slipped it over her head and it fell nearly to the middle of her thighs, the material just heavy enough to pull perfectly down into shape. She pulled on the leggings, finding a pair of white heeled sandals at the foot of the bed to match. They looked like they’d pinch at every seam but when she tugged them on she might as well have been wearing her favourite sneakers. She took a few steps to make sure she wouldn’t topple over but again, the shoes were perfect. She mused as she walked out the door, clearly she should be investing in more expensive shoes. Was this how heels were supposed to feel?

Dante’s white haired head popped out of the open door next to her. “Ah! You’re ready! Come in, come in.” He ducked back into the room as Clarke raised her eyebrows at his excitable nature. The sun shone brightly through multiple large windows around a large vanity table where Dante had pulled out a short backed chair for her. She watched him puttering around behind her through the mirror. He came back with a wooden comb and reached out towards her still drying hair, gently lifting a lock and beginning to brush it without preamble.

“I used to do this every morning for my daughter. My son too, once, though he stopped it much sooner than she did.” Dante smiled fondly as he continued smoothing out her hair with long, even brush strokes that left it burnished gold against the bright pink sweater. Clarke watched his hands through the mirror. She remembered her mother doing the same for her when she was young, brushing and smoothing and plaiting before meetings and parties and fundraisers. Clarke’s face fell and she stared into the wood grain of the table.

“Children have to grow up someday, you said it yourself.” A familiar detached voice pulls Clarke from her memories. “We’re too busy for hair brushing and hand holding these days, Father.” That reminded her, she still didn’t know anything about these people. Lorelei leaned against the table and looked at Clarke with the same critical eye she’d given her earlier before pulling several small pots and pallets out of the vanity drawers.

“Close your eyes.” She murmured. Clarke felt brushes swipe and pat across her face.

“What do you guys do here, exactly?” Clarke winced as Dante hit a small snag of tangled hair. He laughed as he gently teased the strands apart, “What don’t we do here might be the more apt question.

“I run the house, maintaining the gardens and such.” Dante spoke happily as Clarke registered the sound of a drawer opening, “I also look after some of our various interests, though my son mostly takes care of that anymore”

Clarke immediately felt a little out of her depth. These must be the kind of people whose money makes money for them, she thought. She’s known plenty of those types but she’s never figured out what the hell they were ever talking about.

Lorelei took over explaining as Dante began pushing pins into her hair, scraping along her scalp. “I run a small hospital just down the road and I have a laboratory here on the grounds where we test new ideas. My father runs the estate and my brother takes care of everything else. It’s not terribly complicated.”

“And you know,” Dante spoke up again, sounding as if he was holding hair pins between his teeth, “a lot of our friends come and ask us for help. They usually don’t need much at all but we do whatever we can for them and that takes time too. Makes us responsible for them in a way.”

Clarke nods, she understands that sense of responsibility, it might be the only thing about the Wallace’s that she really understands.

Finger grip her chin tightly.

“Stop moving so much. I’m almost done.” Lorelei’s voice was very close. Clarke froze, hardly daring to breathe as she felt cool fingers rub something lightly over her eyelids.

“There. Open.” Clarke opened her eyes and gazed into the mirror in slight shock. There had been many times she’d looked into a mirror and been pleasantly surprised that she looked as good as she felt, and many more times when she’d accidentally glimpsed some harried looking thing out of the corner of her eye only to realize it was her reflection. She wasn’t an insecure person in the slightest, but still, it was a rare experience to look into a mirror and see someone far lovelier than she expected.

Dante hadn’t done much to her hair, though at the same time it seemed completely new and irreplicable. Just enough had been pulled back to not be falling in her face and most of it hung free with a gentle curl to it, shining golden against the soft pink sweater. The sweater clung to her form and brought out the blue in her eyes, the red in her cheeks, somehow making her look taller, thinner, and curvier all at once.

Dante clapped his hands together, “Now you're ready for the party!”

Clarke blinked, tilting her toward him while keeping her eyes on the mirror. “I can’t thank you enough for this. Dante, Lorelei. You’ve both been so kind. I’ve never-” She doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. Never borrowed clothes for a party? Never gotten a makeover like this? Though it was true it hardly contained the breadth of her gratitude. Dante seemed to understand what she was trying to say. He fixed her with another one of his grandfatherly smiles. His hand coming up to rest between her shoulder blades as he began leading them all out.

Clarke turned for one more look in the mirror, she’d never noticed just how blue her eyes were. All those times Wells had nagged her to take better care of herself, to dress a little nicer, wear a little makeup, maybe he’d been right.

That reminded her, she still needed to make a call.“Lorelei, where did you say the phone was?” the other woman pointed to another bedroom where an old French rotary phone sat on a desk. Clarke listened to the dial click back into place after each swipe and wondered if she should be surprised that she still knew Wells’ number by heart.

She placed the receiver to her ear, listening to ring after ring. After a couple minutes, she placed it back in its cradle, frowning at the machine. Why hadn’t voicemail picked up? There was something weird going on here.

Clarke turned and covered the distance to the door in a few steps. If she was quick enough she might be able to catch Lorelei and ask her what the hell was happening, but as soon as she made it to the hallway she heard the sound of distant laughter and tinkling glasses. A large open doorway stood at the end of the hall, framed in white curtains that waved delicately, welcomingly in the breeze. Clarke made her way to it and hesitated for a moment, squinting slightly against the bright sunlight pouring through. Then stepped into a back garden just as verdant and beautiful as the front. As she looked out she could see at least fifty people with drinks in their hands, laughing at unheard jokes and unironically enjoying various lawn games. Clarke stared, lost momentarily until she felt a hand grab her wrist softly and tuck her arm into the crook of another. She turned slightly to find Dante grinning at her once again.

The party had begun.

Clarke had been rather hoping that this would be like any other party, where it’s left up to the guests to decide how much they want to be involved. She wanted some time to observe, but any anticipation of that was dashed almost immediately.

“Oh! Over there! You must meet Lovelace and Vincent” The old man pulled her along with him to a group of three men and a younger girl nearby. As they neared the group stilled, looking wary and, Clarke could have sworn, fearful for just a moment before smiling and shifting to accommodate them. Dante pushed her forward slightly “Clarke, this is Lovelace, Lee, Vincent, and Vincent’s daughter Maya. Everyone, this is Clarke Griffin! I found her in the garden this morning.” Dante announced proudly. Clarke frowned, he found her? As if she were nothing more than a bunny in the vegetable patch? The new people clustered around her with exclamations of surprise and happiness.

“Such a beauty! But these must be Lorelei’s clothes. They suit her perfectly!”

“So good of Dante to bring in a new face, we were getting bored!”

“Yes, It’s wonderful to see someone new! And such a sweet little thing, leave it to the Dante to know exactly what we all need.”

Clarke felt their complements brush past her to the preening man behind her, but she still felt her spirits rise. Smiling softly she took their outstretched hands and let them kiss her cheeks as Lorelei had done that morning. The chatter commenced once again, with Lovelace moving to speak privately in semi-hushed tones to Dante. 

“Would you like something to drink?” one of the other men asked, Lee? She was pretty sure it was Lee.

“She’ll have wine. No! Champagne! It’s a celebration after all.” Vincent answered for her, sending her a wide grin. Clarke had been about to ask for gin or whiskey but a glass was handed to her almost immediately, pale and bubbling prettily from the base of the flute. Clarke sipped daintily, not usually a fan of wine in general, but after one sip even she could tell it was real champagne from France. Not the generic sparkling wine she was used to tolerating at parties. Just the right level of acidic, with bright fruity flavours and an almost buttery finish. Of course Dante would have the good stuff. 

Seeing her satisfied, her new friends began a volley of questions about her life. How did she get here? Where did she live? What did she do? School? No, no, what did she do for fun? Was she married? Of course, she looked too young but they just had to ask. They seemed especially taken with her decision to study both medicine and art.

“Naturally! You are someone who understands the importance of balance!” Lovelace grabbed her hands in his and held them between their chests, looking her earnestly in the eyes “no one can be satisfied with one or the other but you, Clarke Griffin, are one of the rare types who sees this before it’s too late. You’re smart and bold, and not afraid of adventure.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

This all sounded very fortune cookie-like, but Clarke smiled good naturedly and took the compliment with a minimum of argument. “And how could you possibly know all that.”

“Well you’re here with us, aren’t you?” Maya’s soft voice spoke up. “Come on, leave these old fogies. Let me show you around some more.” The smaller girl twined her fingers with Clarke’s and lead her down the garden path, laughing at her father's fake indignant outcry behind them.

The party was absolutely massive, people thronging in every available space. Everyone was beautiful and impeccably dressed, they all looked different but somehow they also all shared the same sort of pale skin and dark eyes. Even those with more melanic skin tones looked like they could use a day in the sun. Maya introduced her to so many people Clarke stopped trying to keep names straight, they ran through rose gardens and around a pool where at least twenty people splashed around in their nice party clothes. One of them reached out and made to grab Clarke’s ankle as they passed. Clarke laughed and used the proffered arm to push the woman back into the deeper water, to the cheers and laughter of all the other swimmers.

Maya laughed with her, a soft and genuine tinkling that made Clarke feel like she was hearing something rare and precious. A nervous looking blonde girl wearing a pretty blouse and tight jeans caught Maya’s attention and they changed direction to meet her. Maya clasped the new girl’s hands tightly and kissed her cheek. “Harper, this is Clarke. Dante’s new friend.”

“I love your boots.” Clarke said in lieu of repeating her introduction. Harper grinned, somewhat shakily and nodded sharply. “Thanks. You look good too. Is that from Dr Tsing?” Clarke tilted her head a bit.

“You mean Lorelei?” 

“Right! Sorry, yeah.” Harper recovered clumsily, eyes darting to Maya. “Did Lorelei give you those clothes? They look great on you, the perfect colour to bring out your eyes.”

“Yes, she was kind enough to let me borrow these. Her last name is Tsing?” Clarke asked.

Maya stepped in and whispered quickly, “Lorelei’s family name isn’t the same as Dante’s.”

Clarke looked between Maya and Harper, both seeming a bit stricken, and got the feeling they didn’t really want her to press. But this was the first real answer she felt like she’d gotten all day, just a little more wouldn’t hurt.

“Was she adopted? Or married?” Clarke didn’t understand why this was being presented so carefully. It was personal, sure, but Lorelei and Dante hardly seem like the type to keep secrets.

“Lorelei is many things to many people.” a new voice offered. Clarke spun around and immediately bumped her nose into a broad chest in a white shirt. Backing up a bit, she looked up into another pale face with a lock of dark hair falling artfully over a wide forehead. The new man grabbed her hand and brought it to his thin, pink lips, kissing her knuckles before letting their joined hands fall. He lead Clarke a few steps away from where Maya was speaking quietly to Harper, her hand on the blonde’s shoulder.

“Don’t mind Harper. She’s being treated at the hospital for a mild sickness. She hasn’t been out much, I’m afraid it’s made her a little awkward.” His voice was confident, unconcerned. Clarke turned to look at girls behind them, Harper’s shakiness turning from nerves to illness in her mind.

“Is she okay to be out like this? She should be resting.” The man laughed and dropped her hand.

“So worried about someone you’ve only just met!” He grinned and gave her a light push towards the heart of the party. “She’ll be back in bed soon enough, let’s all have some fun first.”

Clarke turned around but he was already gone. She’d lost sight of Maya and Harper as well.

Shrugging, she headed back toward the house, following the sound of muffled dance music. As she went she picked up gossip about people she didn’t know or couldn’t remember. People kept giving her glasses of champagne and every glass was as good as the first had been, everyone was so excited to meet her. The more people she ran into on the way the more she began to be expected. Buoying her up like the champagne bubbles she was enjoying so much.

“So you’re the one everyone’s talking about?”

“Clarke Griffin! The one I’ve heard so much about! I can’t believe it’s really you!”

“I finally get to meet the famous Clarke? Dante wasn’t kidding when he said he brought us the perfect fit”

Clarke found herself dancing with a woman wearing a dress reminiscent of the 60’s, with huge sunglasses to match though the sun had gone down hours ago. She’d been drinking and dancing so much today she was surprised that she was still feeling so clear-headed and energetic. She looked over her dance partner’s shoulder and caught Dante’s eye. He was standing near the house with Lorelei. Catching the woman’s hands and giving her a peck on the cheek, she made her way across the lawn to her hosts.

“Clarke, my dear, you’re the star of the show!” Dante reached out and shook her shoulder cajolingly before sliding his hand along her back to drape over her shoulders. Clarke reached up and held the hand on her shoulder “I can’t thank you enough for having me. This has all been so amazing, there’s got to be a catch.” She looked over to Lorelei and joked, “Does the magic wear off at midnight? We must be getting close.”

Lorelei gazed at her coolly before smiling and slipping her arm around Clarke’s waist. “No, the magic is stronger than that. It comes from you, you wanted this so this is what you created.”

Clarke was a bit thrown by the straightforward delivery of such an odd statement. “Is it that easy?”

Dante’s grip tightened on her hand. “Of course it’s that easy. And look at you now, so much happier than when I found you in the garden this morning. You just needed a little push from us. A little drink, some nice clothes, you did the rest yourself.”

Lorelei continued smoothly, “We love helping people, and this is only the beginning. We’ll have you in something darker next time, and shorter. To show off your lovely skin.”

I would look nice in that black dress from earlier, Clarke thought distractedly. Then realized with a start that there wouldn’t be a next time. She had to go home after this. Dante’s arm pulled back and he moved to stand in front of her, placing both hands on her shoulders.

“Did I ever get around to introducing you to my son?” He turned slightly and gestured slightly with his head. A familiar dark head separated itself from the crowd and strolled up to meet them.

“Clarke, this is my son, Cage.” Dante began as he stepped back. Lorelei shifted to face her brother, looking fondly unimpressed as he postured.

“We’ve met, Father.” Cage said with a small grin, the same lock of hair falling onto his forehead again. “Clarke had expressed some concern for one of our patients.” His dark eyes searched hers for a moment and he murmured, “Such investment in a stranger does your reputation justice. You’re very kind to be so worried.”

Clarke flushed and had to look away from such an intense stare.

“Is Harper not feeling well?” Lorelei’s arm disappeared from Clarke’s side. She missed its warmth.

“She seemed alright.” Clarke felt obliged to speak up in the girl’s defence. “I think she got too excited and overexerted herself. Maybe she should have someone watching her next time, just to make sure she’s not tiring herself out.” Lorelei smiled and patted Cage on the arm.

“There, you see? She’s already helping.”

“And she’s right, we should have someone monitoring Harper next time.” Cage brought Clarke's hand to his lips again. “I’ll go get her now, make sure she gets back safe and sound.” As he walked back he called over his shoulder, “I could use some help to find her.”

Lorelei sighed and muttered something along the lines of Cage finding his way out of a paper bag as she followed him into the crowd. Clarke laughed quietly as she watched them go.

“So? What do you think of him?” Dante was back at her side. They watched the two dark heads disappear in companionable silence before Clarke answered.“I think he’s the type who knows what he wants and how to get it.”

“Is that good or bad?” Dante was watching her through the corner of his eye, but he didn’t seem surprised by her assessment.

“I think that makes him a good businessman. You’re lucky to have someone like him on your side.”

Dante smiled at this, finally. “I couldn’t agree more. But then, I am his father. It’s my job to think good things about him.”

They parted ways once again, Clarke spotting Maya near the pool again and Dante peeling off to go speak to someone. The night continued in much the same way as it had been before. Clarke indulged the pool people by slipping off her sandals and dipping her feet in the water, soaking her leggings nearly to the knee. Maya pulled her into a conversation with Lovelace about nothing in particular. All three of them squeezed into a red sports car with Vincent and drove too fast down tree lined roads until they finished all the wine Lovelace had brought and had to go back. Clarke found a hedge maze that only grew to the height of her nose. She had to duck to try and get lost. She found the woman in sunglasses at the very centre of it, sitting on the grass and looking up at the stars. Clarke wondered how much she could see through the tinted lenses until the woman offered her another glass of champagne. Clarke couldn’t see where she had been keeping it but she took the perfectly chilled glass and had drained it by the time she made it back to the beginning of the maze.

Someone started a game of hide-and-seek in a forested section of the garden. Clarke hid behind an oak tree, shaking with silent laughter as she watched the other players get found and join the search. Just as one of the women wandered close to her hiding spot, she felt a hand grab her wrist and spin her around into a familiar broad chest. Cage pulled her close and pressed a hard but chaste kiss to her lips. Clarke pulled back, “What the hell was that?”

“All a part of the game.” Cage answered smoothly. He didn’t let go of her wrist. He pulled her close and kissed her again, softer and just on the corner of her mouth this time.

“Hey.” Clarke pushed him away and stalked out of the woods to the sound of his low laughter. It may have all been a part of the night’s fun, but she knew very well that fun could easily get out of hand. She thought about what she had told Dante earlier, and this time she came to a different conclusion. Cage was dangerous, no doubt about it.

As she picked her way back up the lawn to the house, stepping around discarded glasses and plates and random articles of clothing, she saw the woman with the sunglasses again. She was sitting in a lawn chair now, Clarke watched as she lifted the glasses up to sit on the crown of her head. She stared at the moon and her eyes reflected its light brightly. Her pupils were dilated but Clarke could still tell they were vertical slits, like a cat’s. One eye blue and the other gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the second time i've mentioned it but i should clarify, i dont think clarke is necessarily a "whiskey girl". i just think shes probably the type to go about the business of getting drunk with more thought to efficiency than real enjoyment. whiskey's good for that
> 
> next chapter will have definite and obvious elements of dubious consent, i promise i'll keep it to just the one. there will be a summary at the end if you don't want to read it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it seems i just cant help but be wordy. this chapter ends with the beginning of the dubious consent which will be contained to the next chapter. i promise. for real this time.

The phone was ringing.

Clarke nearly fell out of the bed as she hurried to the desk and picked up the old receiver. Wells’ voice came through clear but distant. “Clarke? Are you there?”

“Wells! Oh my god, I completely missed the brunch, I’m so sorry. I went for a walk and I think I got lost but I found some nice people. Was my mother worried? She can call off the search party, I’m fine, I’ll be back soon.”

“Don’t be in such a rush!” Wells laughed, his voice sounding tinny. It must be the old phone, Clarke glanced at the rotary dial and wondered how it was even still working. She looked behind it for a cord that might plug into the wall but there was nothing.

“I heard you met the Wallace’s last night, I’m jealous.” Wells was saying as Clarke focused on the conversation again. “The brunch was nice but compared to one of Dante’s parties it was nothing!”

“You know them? I’ve never heard of any of the people here. Who are they? What do they do?”

“Of course I know them, everyone knows the Wallace’s. They’re just the type of people who are famous for being themselves, I suppose.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. Listen, if you’re so familiar with them can you come pick me up? I don’t even know how I got here and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“Oh don’t worry about that.” Wells sounded even farther away now like he had turned his face away from the phone. “I spoke to someone before reaching you and they said Dante is happy to have you. Stay as long as you want.”

“Wells you’re leaving for your study abroad tomorrow, right? We’re kind of on a time frame, you’re the only one I know who can come get me.”

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out. How often does an opportunity like this come around?” Wells was laughing again. “You work so hard here, take a break for once and be with people who appreciate you.”

“I guess, last night was a lot of fun.” It must have been a good party, she didn’t remember much of it at all.

“You see? Go ahead and take some time for yourself. I’ve got to go now, have a good time there!”

“Wells wait --!” He was gone. She hadn’t thought he’d be so unconcerned about her disappearance. What did he mean she’d ‘figure something out’? She’d left her car at the party, she was stuck here unless someone came to get her.

 _Or_ , a voice rose in the back of her mind, familiarly, blessedly cynical, _you could try to backtrack through the garden and get back to the cave_.

She still didn’t know where she’d taken a wrong turn but getting back to the last familiar place was definitely the first step to getting back. With a plan in place she felt a lot better, a knot she didn’t know she was carrying loosened in her chest. She moved to the mantle where a clock sat in front of a mirror, it read nearly two in the afternoon. Clarke couldn’t remember the last time she’d slept so late. She reached up to run a hand through her hair but was interrupted by the pins Dante had put in last night. Wincing, she began pulling them out while simultaneously berating herself for not having the presence of mind to do this the night before. Clarke glanced up at the mirror and was pleasantly surprised once again. She didn’t remember making it back to the room much less removing her makeup and clearly, she hadn’t undone her hair. Yet somehow she looked just as perfect as she had last night. Perhaps even more so now, gently tousled bed head falling dramatically around her artfully smudged eyes, hair still shining golden in the afternoon sun. She leaned in closer, examining her face from different angles. Clarke wasn’t one to obsess over her looks but this was different. It was more like a miracle than a makeover. She couldn’t help looking for flaws, for anything that might break the perfection into something more believable. But there was nothing. No cracks, no imperfections. Just her own reflection gazing back at her with some hidden mischief behind the eyes. Laughing at her for doubting her own beauty.

A knock came at the door.

Clarke tore her eyes away from the mirror and opened it to find Maya holding a change of clothes.

“Good afternoon! I hope you slept well!”

Clarke was briefly, reflexively annoyed that her friend could be so cheerful and only then registered that she didn’t have a hangover from all the wine last night. Not even a slight headache or soreness at all.

 _This shouldn’t be possible_.

The same voice as before. She pushed it down, not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Maya held out the clothes, a peach undershirt with a white button down and short beige pants. “Lorelei wants you to stop by the lab today, we have a somewhat tricky patient and she was hoping you might be able to help.” Clarke took the clothes gratefully.

“You guys know I’m just a med student right? I’m not a doctor yet, I can’t diagnose people.”

“What could it hurt to take a look?” Maya grinned, her optimism infectious.

Clarke changed quickly and followed her out of the house. They walked about half a mile down a fine gravel path, something about it sparked at Clarke’s memory but whenever she tried to grasp the idea she was distracted by some new lovely plant or strange garden ornament. The path wove through the garden before coming to a small brick building sitting low to the ground. It was longer than it was tall, the shingled roof overhang allowing for baskets of flowers and herbs to dangle in front of large, dark windows. Roses bloomed beneath the them, their heady scent washing over Clarke as she stepped closer to peer inside. The door opened suddenly. Clarke tripped backwards from the window and heard Maya let out a quiet and quickly smothered laugh.

“Nice to see you this afternoon, Clarke. I’m glad you decided to join us.” Lorelei looked up from her clipboard and smiled at the two girls. Her attendance had felt more like a demand than a request but Clarke kept that to herself. Lorelei looked meaningfully at Maya, a clear dismissal. “We only have one patient right now, thank goodness.” Lorelei said, not sounding particularly relieved. She turned to lead Clarke back into the shadow of the building.

Clarke hesitated before following her, squinting into the sunlight at Maya’s retreating form before following Lorelei into the cool laboratory. While the outside had looked rather grandmotherly, the inside of the laboratory was clean and quiet. White tiles covered the floor and ceiling, the walls also painted a bright white that reflected the light streaming in through the windows. A row of metal frame beds lined the back wall with off-white sheets folded neatly on top of the mattresses. Only one was occupied, the blonde girl from the party sat cross-legged on messy sheets. She wore a light grey t-shirt and loose sweatpants, a very different look from her brightly coloured blouse the night before. Clarke looked at her curiously and the girl stared back, quickly dropping her hand from where it had been poking at her shoulder.

“Clarke, this is Harper.” Lorelei broke the silence with her brusk introduction, “I believe you two met last night but unfortunately Harper wasn’t feeling well and had to leave early.”

“Yes, I remember.” Clarke murmured, walking towards the girl. She looked even sicker now than she had the night before. Her eyes had a fevered sheen, accentuated by dark bags beneath and sickly pale skin. Clarke watched the girl’s hands twist nervously in her lap, they were strong hands, calloused and weathered from working in the sun. She looked back at Harper’s face. Now that she was close enough she could see the sweat across her forehead.

“What are her symptoms?” Clarke spoke without taking her eyes off the patient. Distantly aware of the sound of Lorelei flipping through a couple pages on her clipboard.

“We brought her in because of a dizziness and a sore throat, which developed into a high fever and chills within the day. She has reported muscle soreness, fatigue, and chest discomfort now on top of the persisting fever.”

Clarke leaned in front of her and then back, watching Harper’s pupils constrict normally as her shadow passed over her face and the sunlight hit them again. Crude but effective. She looked away from Harper’s increasingly anxious face. There was a low table next to the bed, a small damp towel, a large bowl filled with water, and a pitcher and glass --both about half full-- sat on top. The bowl had what looked like the contents of a tea bag floating in it, torn leaves and bits of sticks swirling gently in the water. Clarke leaned down to take a whiff, chamomile maybe? Some kind of herbal mix meant to soothe and relax.

“Well, I’m not sure why you wanted me here. It just sounds like the flu.” Clarke turned to face Lorelei.

“We thought so too.” Lorelei stepped close to Harper and placed her hand on the girl’s forehead for a moment. Allowing Harper to lean into the touch slightly before she pulled it back and scribbled something on her notes. “We’ve given her the normal treatment but it’s had no effect. If anything she’s been getting worse.”

“Antibacterials didn’t work? What medications have you tried?” Lorelei pointed to the glass of water, Clarke picked it up and reached over the bed to hand it to the older woman. Their fingers brushed as Lorelei took it, her skin soft and cool as ever.

“We tried antibacterial and antiviral, as well as some more natural remedies upon request.” She pulled a small vial out of her pocket and, twisting the cap off with one hand, added a teaspoon of dark purple syrup to the water in the glass. Swirling it gently to mix the two before handing it to Harper. Lorelei met Clarke’s questioning look, “Elderberry syrup, it’ll relieve some of the pain and help her immune system.” Clarke looked back at Harper, who was sipping the mixture. As she lowered the glass Clarke noticed her free hand creeping up to touch her upper arm.

“May I?” Clarke gestured to her arm. Harper’s eyes jumped to Lorelei like she was asking permission, before looking down at the glass in her lap and nodding. Clarke gently wrapped her fingers around Harper’s elbow and pushed the sleeve of the soft grey shirt up, revealing a large bruise that stretched across her bicep and the edge of another one higher up on her shoulder.

“What happened here?”

Harper looked up like she was going to answer but Lorelei beat her to it.

“She tripped as we were bringing her back here last night. She caught herself on the wall but unfortunately, it did leave a mark.” Clarke frowned, looking back at the injury. She would have had to really slam into the wall to get a bruise like this from a simple misstep. Unless..? Clarke looked closer at the arm still in her grasp, it was lean and sun-freckled, but not as muscular as perhaps it should have been from the rough appearance of her hands. She might have lost weight during her stay here.

“You said you’re feeling tired, right?” Clarke asked Harper, dropping her sleeve and letting her arm go. Harper tucked it close, curling in on herself before answering.

“Yes. All the time.”

“You also said you had muscle soreness, is it really your muscles that hurt or your bones and joints?”

“Well, my back hurts and my elbows feel sore. Like I was working in the field but I haven’t been in…” She paused, looking confused. “In a while, I guess.”

“Have you been feeling hungry lately?” Harper shook her head.

“Have you had any nosebleeds? Been getting bruises like this often?”

“No nosebleeds, not that I can remember. And I’ve been in bed a lot, not much opportunity to get bruises.”

Clarke nodded thoughtfully. “Drink your juice, it’ll help.” She was almost positive it would do nothing. But if Harper thought it was helping then it wouldn’t hurt to let her have it. She walked around to Lorelei and motioned toward the window, speaking quietly when they both reached it.

“It’s possible that she may have leukaemia. The symptoms can appear flu-like but if she’s bruising easily and losing weight like this it could be something more serious.”

Lorelei nodded, looking faintly impressed. “That was a good observation, even I hadn’t put all the pieces together. We’ll keep an eye out for nosebleeds.”

“She may develop slurred speech and bleeding gums as well if it is leukaemia. Do you have facilities for chemotherapy? Just in case.”

“No, it’s a small clinic but we have a full lab in the back. Is there a treatment that we could synthesize here?”

“You know I’m not a doctor, right? I told Maya before we left, I’m still a student. I’m not sure I even feel comfortable making a diagnosis like this.”

“Don’t doubt yourself now.” Lorelei put a hand on Clarke’s shoulder and turned her to face their patient again. Harper had placed the glass back on the table and was wetting down the towel with the water from the bowl, presumably to put it on her forehead and cool down the fever. The bright afternoon sunlight slanted through the window, illuminating her sickly pallor and making her hair shine like bronze where it fell in her eyes. Clarke felt horrible for her.

“Without you, we might never have realized she didn’t just have a bad cold. With your help, we can treat her properly, get her back to her friends.”

Clarke looked around the empty room, Harper had seemed a lot happier last night when she was talking to Maya. Clarke weighed her options briefly and made her decision.

“Take a blood sample before you do anything. If she does have leukaemia there will be a strong imbalance between red and white blood cells and an excess of myeloid cells. There are a couple different medications you can use if chemo isn’t available but the only one I know of that you might be able to synthesize here is hydroxyurea. It can be extracted from human blood but it isn’t present in high quantities. You’ll need a lot. Honestly, chemotherapy would be simpler and more effective.”

Lorelei grinned, showing more emotion in one expression than she had since yesterday. “Thank you, Clarke. You have no idea how helpful you’ve been.”

Clarke flushed and ducked her head at the praise. The back of her mind prickled, _isn’t it weird that a doctor needs your help to treat a patient? She should know this, and she should have transferred Harper when she realized she couldn’t treat her here_. She pushed the cynical voice away. Synthesizing medication wasn’t exactly common knowledge, one of her instructors happened to mention hydroxyurea the other day, really she was lucky she remembered it at all. Lorelei was a busy woman, too. She probably just forgot.

“It’s my pleasure.” Clarke responded after realizing she hadn’t yet. “I hope I’m wrong about the diagnosis. It would be a lot easier for her if she did just have a bad cold.”

“Harper is strong. She’ll handle it.” Lorelei was back to being vague and dispassionate. She began walking back to the door, scribbling notes into her clipboard.

 _She probably used up all the emotions of the day with that smile,_  Clarke thought inanely and had to force back a snort of laughter. She squashed the voice down again and followed the doctor out. They walked back through the gardens, taking a different route than Clarke and Maya had before.

Lorelei set a brisk pace and Clarke had to jog closer when she began speaking. “You should know that Father is planning another party tonight.”

“Another one already?”

“He lives to entertain.”

They rounded a corner and nearly bowled over Maya and Vincent, catching themselves at the last minute. Lorelei huffed impatiently and brushed at her lab coat.

“There you two are, thought I’d have to take her all the way back myself.”

Vincent smiled brightly and stepped slightly in front of Maya. “Yes of course. Our apologies. We were...held up. Momentarily.”

Lorelei’s expression changed from irritated back to impassive as she looked the two over. She turned back to Clarke without responding. “These two will take you back to the house, the gardens can be confusing to navigate without practice. I need to get back to the lab for now but I’ll meet you all later.” She reached her hands out and clasped Clarke’s between them. “Thank you again for all your help today.” Before Clarke could put together a response Lorelei had dropped her hands and vanished back around the corner.

The three of them watched her leave and waited a bit longer in silence, as if expecting her to come back around and chastise them again.

“So! Let’s get a move on then, shall we?” Vincent clapped his hands and turned briskly on the balls of his feet back in the direction of the house. The girls followed.

“I’m glad to hear you were able to help Harper.” Maya didn’t meet Clarke’s eyes as she spoke, “I hope that she will feel better soon.”

“I hope so too.” Clarke murmured. Would it be better to tell her about the worse diagnosis now? But there was still a chance she was wrong about it. Clarke hung back a little and watched Maya skip forward to speak with her father; she would tell her when Lorelei finished testing. Just to be sure.

As the trio neared the house they could hear the familiar rumble of an idling vehicle. Stepping out of the garden through a small gate they were able to see that, sure enough, there was a beautiful vintage car waiting at the top of the driveway roundabout. Clarke eyed it’s graceful curving lines as they neared, noting with some delight that the hood ornament was a tiny leaping unicorn. She turned away and walked up the steps, her fingers barely brushing the door handle when Dante near jumped out from behind one of the portico’s columns.

“Clarke! There you are! Come on we’re going to be late!” The old man grinned widely and spun her around, leading her back down the steps towards the car. _Did the house have steps yesterday? I don’t remember seeing this heavy, greek inspired entryway._

“Late for what? Where are we going?” Clarke laughed as Dante opened the car door with a flourish and ushered her in. He walked around the back and came to sit next to her, tapping the driver’s shoulder to signal him to head out. She thought she recognized Lovelace but the man kept his face just out of sight.

“The party of course! Lorelei said she told you to expect it.”

“I assumed it would be held at the house like yesterday.” Clarke frowned slightly and glanced out the window at the glittering bridge they were crossing. The lights of a large city across the water lit up the night sky. _Hadn’t it still been afternoon when they left?_  

“Good heavens no. That was just a little get-together. Tonight we’ll have a real party in the city! Real music! Real drinks! All kinds of strangers! Who knows, you might meet someone and fall in love.” Dante nudged her arm with his elbow and winked at her.

She laughed. “Dressed like this? I doubt it.” Clarke gestured to her outfit, while comfortable and decently flattering, it didn’t exactly draw the eye.

“Oh don’t worry about that, you’ll look stunning.”

All the cars they passed on the road were old fashioned like the one they were riding in. At first it seemed strange but the longer she looked the more right it felt. Clarke stared at the city skyline, “Is that New York? How did we get here so fast?”

Dante smiled and looked out the window himself. “We drove much too fast.”

The driver parked the car in front of a tall, clean building with a red carpet spilling out of its doors. He walked around the car and opened the door for Clarke, offering a hand to help her out of the car. As she stepped out she ran a hand down her dress to make sure the drive hadn’t wrinkled it, but the heavy fabric was perfectly smooth.  _Dress?_

“There, didn’t I say you’d look good in black?” Lorelei’s voice pulled Clarke’s attention to the doorway once more. The siblings sauntered up to her, both dazzling in their formal attire.

“Even more lovely than last night.” Cage’s deeper voice agreed. He wrapped an arm around her waist as Lorelei held the door open for them. His hand pressed against her hip and Clarke felt a deeply confusing warmth at the contact. She looked up at his pale face and noticed his tie was ever-so-slightly askew. Something in her longed to straighten it for him, to smooth down his lapels and see him smiling at her. She remembered the stolen kiss from the night before and felt her lips tingle with the memory.

The now familiar cynical voice in the back of her head was trying to get her attention. _Something’s wrong something’s wrong something’s -_

As if sensing her alarm, Cage slipped his arm back, dragging his palm across her back and picking up her hand. He lifted it to his mouth as he had before but turned her arm at the last second to place a burning kiss on the inside of her wrist. His dark eyes met hers and seemed to promise a return as he stepped away towards the bar.

With him gone some of the fog in her mind lifted and Clarke finally noticed her surroundings; The lively jazz music and the smoky air, the ambient hum of dozens of conversations. She spun where she stood in the lobby and took in the gleaming art deco designs on every wall.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. Cage was back with two glasses of champagne.

“A theme party this time? How did your father manage to put all this together?” Clarke gratefully accepted the drink.

“Well he’s had all day. He thought you would like something like this.” Cage grinned and something in Clarke’s chest tightened. She took a large sip of the wine.

“I do like the style of the 20’s, even though they took everything to excess.” Clarke murmured agreeably and let herself be guided along again, “Why does he want to please me specifically? He’s only just met me.”

“That’s just it, isn’t it? You’re something new and different. My father sees a lot of potential in you.”

“I’m just a student who wandered into your backyard. Not to say that I’m ungrateful but he probably should have kicked me out ages ago.”

“Don’t sell yourself short.” Cage took the now empty glass and placed it on a table as he steered her to the dance floor. His hand burned where it pressed into her back, “There’s something truly special in you, my dear.”


End file.
